Daemons run rampant at the head of the worm, causing it to shift and turn in its route. Although they seem to be content to grow in numbers around their rift, it is only a matter of time before they descend on Ghur, destroying all in their path. Their first and second port of call will most certainly be the settlement further down on the worm, and then Nassolotyl itself.
But they have been caught unaware, as their presence is most certainly well known. First by the followers of Beliana Fauncrest who, even now, race to warn the settlement of Dawnbringers, as well as Hogrog Ug Weirdklaw who has been working his magic in the background to close to the portal, or at least waylay the daemons.
A Tear in Reality
The city of Nassolotyl has been deceived, and Sylvene Lyonaver was a follower of the dark powers all along. But there is no time to find a spy when there are daemons to kill.
Game Master Notes
These notes exist to help you run through the Quest. They are put here by the creator and should give you some direction as to what they had in mind when they created the Quest
This Quest has been made specifically for the Vurm-tai Campaign. If you intend to help resolve it, you’ll automatically be participating in the campaign. I highly recommend that you join our Discord server so you can work with others to accomplish the quest.
If you play to represent or help Hogrog you should have an advantage in your game to represent the fact the daemons do not know of your presence. You gain an extra advantage if your goal is to close the portal.
- The Weaver -
Rewards
Sometimes a Quest creator will tell you what you get for completing the Quest, depending of the outcome of course. If there is nothing, you can obviously create your own rewards, ahhh… imagine the possibilities…
If the portal isn’t closed, or the deamons expelled, well, no one will be safe…
Have you played through this Quest or Rumour?
If you’ve played through or resolved this in any way, be sure to tell us right here on the Quest page, we’d love to know what happened!
Diary Entry
I journeyed for weeks to intercept the Great Wurm as it crosses the Amberlands, facing all manner of Ghurish creatures. They seem quickly susceptible to my incantations, the poxes I have conjured taking on very aggressive lives of their own.
My goal is simple, reach the monster and gain access to its vast body, then protect our works and positions near its “head”.
-X-
A great portal has been opened by one of the corrupted sorcerers in our enemy’s ranks, this is the opportunity I have been waiting for – I can create the summoning for my daemonic allies and bring them straight onto the beast’s back.
-X-
My ritual was a success! I have summoned the Plaguebearers of The Mournful Choir into the realm – the open portal made my task all the easier, so much magic energy saturating the area can only serve to sustain the daemons indefinitely. I siphoned off the excess spilling from the portal and already feel my witchsight is keener, my sorcerous arts are deeper and stronger.
-X-
Today was the most testing of my journey here in Ghur. Forces of Order encountered my summoning site. I believe they were taken aback by the size of my force, but the Aelves pressed the attack regardless. My Beast proved to be a titanic battering ram to the enemy, rampaging over half their scouts and dispatching them without mercy. I personally despatched the Assassin with an arcane bolt as the fool attempted a last stand. The Aelf wounded are to be sacrificed to Lord Nurgle’s glory over the next few days.
Thorn frowned as he stomped back to where the mob of troggoths were resting. He’d been talking with Hogrog Ug Weirdklaw, and the orruk had suggested that he and his troggoth might like to face something a little more challenging than some goat-things or humies. As he approached the camp, Mama Feeshie looked up, frowned, then slowly shifted her enormous bulk as she got to her feet. Arching one brow, she cast the troggboss a curious look.
“Ya got sumfin good ta say?”
“Mebbe,” Thorn replied in a bass rumble. “Been talkin wif Hog-rog. He sez dere’s dis fing, loik a hole, dat dem slicey deemon fings is comin’ froo. Wants us ta crump dem an mebbe close da hole?”
“Wut kind ovva hole is dis?”
“Oi dunno, sum kinda hole dat da deemon fings come froo.”
For a time, the Hag thought about the concept, then nodded slowly. “Oh, roight. Dat kinda hole. Yah, we betta close dat quick. You said is da slicey-deemon fings?”
Thorn nodded. “Dat is wut I wuz told. Da slicey ones wif da crab-arms.”
“Hmm. Dem buggas is fast, ‘ent dey?”
Thorn’s frown deepened as he tried to dredge up old memories. “Oi fink dey is, yus. Hmm. Dat means dey might get ’round us. We dun want dat. Oi fink oi knows a way ta fix dat.” Looking around, he spied the troggoth he wanted. “Oy, Big Bobber, git ovva here!”
“Yez boss?” Bobber was unusually tall for a fellwater trogg, and not as fat around the middle as they tended to be. “”Whuzzup?”
“Ya know dem dog-rider grots?”
“Da three wif da funny hats? Yez.”
“Good. Ya know where dey are?”
“Yah. Ya want me to find dem?”
Thorn nodded and smiled at Bobber. For a fellwater, the tall trogg was fairly smart. Smarter than most of his kin, other than Mama Feeshie and her apprentices. “Yep. Find dem and tell ’em we gotta job for dem, but do it fast.”
“Hokay.” Troggoth didn’t salute, but they did have gestures that implied respect to other troggoth. Big Bobber did a quick hand gesture that looked like he was slapping himself with something held in his empty hand, then wandered off at a brisk pace.
“Now den, ’bout dis hole,” he said to the hag. “How does ya close a hole loik dat?”
“Oi knows how,” she told him. “Means oi’m gun have ta come wif on dis job. Lemme grab me stikk and oi’ll meet ya there.”
“Dat works.” As the hag turned away, Thorn began to shout orders to the other troggoth in the area. Soon they were mobbed up and heading towards the area Hogrog had told Thorn about…
It turned out the daemons were faster than they realized.
Thorn had split his army of troggoth into two ‘hands,’ as he called them. One hand was following Crusha and a runty dankhold troggoth named Mush, the other went with Thorn and Mama Feeshie. The idea was to try to catch the daemons in between the two groups of troggoth, but it didn’t quite go as planned. By the time the troggoth could see the daemons, they were already being charged by them!
Thorn frowned as he saw a really big slicey daemon move forward in an oddly graceful manner, while the rockgut troggs in front of it kind of just milled about, even more stupidly than normal. A big mob of smaller slicey daemons followed in its wake, striking the ‘hand’ under Crusha before they’d gone very far. Another group of smaller slicey daemons following some weird slicey daemon in a funny mask had charged into Thorn’s mob at about the same time.
They crumped pretty easily though. While here and there a single troggoth went down, Thorn just rolled his eyes, hefted his hammer, and flattened the mask-deemon to an ichor-filled pulp. Around him, a bunch of rockguts were doing the same to the smaller daemons, while the group of rockguts that were acting stupid did something useful and tried to smash the big daemon. They lost a few more troggoths during the counter-attack – nothing that couldn’t be regenerated eventually, and a trio of fellwater took the big daemon as the challenge it was. While the big daemon was busying itself with the rockguts troggs, the fellwater hit it from the side and destroyed it in a shower of ichor and bones.
It wasn’t all going their way though. The daemons had some kind of wheeled thing pulled by funky long-nosed things with weird tongues, and while they did some damage to it, the thing freaked out the troggs enough that a bunch of them ran away from it! While all of this was happening, the wolf-riding grots Thorn had hired were doing their job. They swept around the right flank, past Crusha’s ‘hand’ of troggoth and into the daemon’s cavalry. The hope was that they could do enough damage to drive the cavalry away, but it was not to be. A couple of daemon-riders fell, but so did the grots. Still, the distraction was worth the shiny rocks Thorn had paid the grots with.
Mama Feeshie in the meantime, was in the thick of things. She’d belched out counterspell after counterspell, her own magic fizzling against the daemon’s casters. She wasn’t getting any magic off, but then, neither were they. One of them had managed to summon some weird slicey pendulum-thing, but she’d taken a look at that and unraveled it in short order. No, magic was not going to play a strong part in this fight.
As the initial wave of daemons fell, Thorn waved the remaining troggoths – about a third had fallen from the daemon charge – towards their goal. It stood in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by tree-like protrusions. A glowing, smoke-filled tear in reality that didn’t look like any kind of hole he’d ever seen before! Stomping forward, Thorn prepared to drive off any daemons that came near it, the survivors of his troggmob moving up to support his efforts.
A little way away, Mama Feeshie was prepping to close the hole. She’d gotten mad at the wheeled thing that had scared away the rockguts, so she walked up to it, drove a massive foot into one of the wheels, and then smashed it into kindling with her stick. Anyone else would have likened her stick to a chunk of tree, really. That done, she walked over towards the hole.
Thorn was in a fix though. While he’d been distracted by the glowing hole, he’d gotten surrounded by a bunch of the smaller daemons, a trio of funny long-nosed things with big claws, and some kind of minor daemon leader. Growling his anger, he smashed the long-nose things, pulping one with his fist, but that left him open to the small daemons, who slashed into his back. When he tried smashing the small daemons, one of the long-nose things poked him in the side with its tongue! The other hits didn’t hurt much, but that burned like fire! The last thing the troggboss saw was the leader daemon’s evil smile as its claw plunged into his chest, slicing him in half.
But the daemon’s triumph was short-lived. A moment later the remaining troggoth swept in and crushed it and the remainder of its minions, driving the last of the daemons from the field. As the rockguts gathered up enough of Thorn’s body to let him regenerate, Mama Feeshie regarded the hole in reality.
“Hoo, dis is not good.”
Big Bobber gave a kind of burbly-sounding laugh as he walked up next to her. He was using his left arm to hold his right arm in place until it regenerated back onto his body. “Naw, is not good. Is whattaya callz it. Chaos.”
She rolled her eyes at his attempted joke and turned back to the hole. “Hmm. Dis iz gunna take more den me hitting it wif my stikk ta fix it.” Drawing on the energy of Ghur, she began to pour magic into the hole, trying to knit the edges back together. It was slow going, and twice the other troggoth had to step in and smash more daemons as they tried to come through the hole, but in the end she succeeded. As the glow faded and the hole closed, she let out a rancid-smelling breath of air and collapsed to the ground, spent.
The hag sat there for some time, pondering what she’d seen. “Dem deemon-fings is kind of annoying,” she finally said out loud.
“Yez, dat dey are.” The voice that came back was a whisper, a fraction of the power it normally had. Thorn was moving slowly, supported by Crusha and Mush, as his body was still repairing itself. “Dey kinda hurt, too.”
“Yah, well, I fink we hurt dem way more den dey hurt us,” Mama told the troggboss.
“True. I wunner if da other boyz iz havin enny luck?”
“Uvver boyz?”
“Dis isn’t da only hole,” he told her, his voice sour from annoyance.
“Oh.” She let out an irritated sigh and began to move, slowing bringing herself back up to her feet. “Den I guess we betta get going and see if ennywun needs help, roight?”
“Roight.”
Hogrog had been sharing his plans with anyone who would listen – Thorn’s Troggs, Steeltoof’s Ironjawz, Tygon’s Gargants, Gurrbag’s Grots, and many others – even some of the city gitz. A lot of them were of the same mind: The Rift had to be shut and the daemons had to be smashed. Otherwise there would be a lot more damage done to the Realm and it’s spirit than just a few stretched ley-lines. The Wurrgog Prophet and his followers found a good spot for their part in the Ritual of The Snapping Jaws.
Unfortunately there were already a lot of gribblies there.
The Badfangs formed a cordon around Hogrog, to try to stop the daemons interfering with the ritual. The Horrors swarmed forward with sorcerous fires erupting from their many hands.
The Changecaster and his entourage of weird imps and floating books, slowly moved away from the main fight, to try and outflank the Wurrgog’s defences. Zogfang charged through the warp-fire blasts and engaged the Iridescent Horror – the Changecaster’s second-in-command. He was mildly annoyed when Boss Ersatz appear at his side and slammed into the Iridescent Horror and sent it tumbling across the ground. Zogfang got one last jab of his bone shiv in though, just before the daemonic lieutenant discorporated.
The Changecaster moved past the fighting and headed for the Wurrgog Prophet. Hogrog felt the first parts of the magic sliding into place – it was a slower start than he wanted but there was now a foundation, there was now hope.
A Pink Horror blasted blue fire at Ersatz, the Big Boss was furious. Wardokk Urgog jumped down and started his Grimdokk ritual; the healing magic worked on all of the orruks near him; closing cuts, un-burning flesh and revitalising the Badfangs.
Some of the Bonesplitterz realised what the Changecaster was up to and blocked his path. So the daemonic commander avoided them – he jumped up onto a ruin with a clear line of sight on Hogrog.
The Horrors started aiming sorcerous fires at Wardokk Urgog, who ignored the fires and continued to heal the Badfangs nearby.
Hogrog focussed a portion of his power at the Changecaster. A crushing green fist enveloped the daemon.
More Pink Horrors closed in. Boss Ersatz carved his way through some of them. Noknok interrupted his rhythmic drumming for a moment to smash his heavy bone drumstick into a Horror’s face without missing a beat.
The teeth of the Ritual were now in place. Hogrog had to concentrate hard as the various threads of the ritual were being pulled apart, even as he wove them together. The fibres of the Ritual’s jaw-muscles started to bind together, they were still weak though.
It didn’t help how distracted he was though – at the same time as manifesting the Ritual Hogrog and the Changecaster were also exchanging magical blasts, the Wurrgog had the edge in the duel but to get it over-with sooner he sent Zurgob over to attack the daemon as well. Zurgob leapt up the ruins and finished off the injured Changecaster!
Searing blue, yellow and pink fires streamed across the open ground between the daemons and the orruks. The daemons were far more dangerous at a distance than they were in a fight, so the Badfangs didn’t leave want to them with that advantage for long!
Arcane flames rippled out through the fighting again and again. Several of the Horrors concentrated their fires on Ersatz – the Big Boss was making a mess of them, one after another. Waves of iridescent fire washed over Ersatz, his war-paint protected him from the worst of the effects but it still scorched his flesh. Zogfang and Rukbeast ganged-up on a Pink Horror.
Hogrog contorted and babbled incoherently as he pulled more components of the Ritual together, weaving the strands of wurm-lines with the Beast-magic of the realm and the energy of the Badfangs’ fighting. But there was something missing… Boss Ersatz was being worn down faster than Wardokk Urgog could heal him. His injuries were threatening to overwhelm him soon. He didn’t seem to notice though and the Badfangs rallied around his example, plunging through the arcane fires to smash the daemons with their spirt-bone weapons.
The great maw of the Ritual loomed large in Hogrog’s mind now – its muscles were gaining strength and coherency.
More Horrors crowded the Badfangs.
Suddenly Hogrog jumped down from the platform on the ruin – he knew what the Ritual was missing now. It needed more violence! He roared encouragement at the Badfangs who redoubled their enthusiasm for the fight. Several started laughing uncontrollably as the slashed at the Horrors!
Big Boss Ersatz hacked down two daemons, one after the other. His massive stone axe sliced through them and they dissolved into swirls of pink and blue fire. Wardokk Urgog sent out another wave of healing Grimdokk power.
The Badfangs rounded on the last daemon. With a triumphant roar Zogfang charged forward and smashed the last Pink Horror with his beast-spirit infused bone weapons and the daemon de-corporealized into a shrinking swirl of pink and blue flames, which were then snuffed out.
The Waaagh! energy that flooded from the fighting orruks gave the Ritual the last burst of power it needed to manifest: the vast ghostly green form of Gorkamorka’s grinning face coalesced from the clouds, and appeared in right front of the Rift. The image of the orruk god slowly opened his enormous fanged mouth then suddenly chomped down on the swirling black portal….
+++
Photos here:
https://warbosskurgan.blogspot.com/2021/09/the-badfangs-bonesplitterz-of-ghur-part_27.html
“Why is we here again, boss?”
Instead of an immediate reply Old Viggo instead gave Drabb a bonk on the head with his shipwrecka warclub. A bonk for a Gargant anyway. A human would have been smashed into paste.
“Because that hole inna sky needs closin’!” the older Mega-Gargant eventually said in matter of explanation.
“But why?” Drabb insisted. “Looks like dere’s plenty of dem daemon things coming out of it. I saw the troggs fightin’ some of dem and it looked like a whole bunch a fun.”
Unfortunately Drabb had a point there. But still, the shamans had been quite insistent. And considering how much Viggo’s head had hurt when the rift first opened, he was inclined to agree. “Because the shaman said so!” he shouted at Drabb, raising his club again in a threatening gesture. “And they know a whole damn thing more about this than you. And besides, it’s makin’ me head hurt.”
“Alright, alright. Sorry, boss.”
“Better. Now, get goin’. The shamans need to work to close the hole, so we gotta stomp all the daemons coming out while they do that.”
“Oh. Hey, I likes dat!” Drabb exclaimed, sounding a lot more happy.
When the Stomp crossed a ridge on the way towards the rift however they were not faced with horde of daemons but with a battleline of quite familiar looking ‘shiney boys’.
“Is we gonna stomp dem too?”
For just a moment Old Viggo considered it. Surely the humans would want to close the ‘hole’ as well. And Gargants working along the Forces of Order was not unprecedented. Viggo himself had fought alongside armies of humans, back in his younger years, when he was constantly itching for a fight.
“They’re in our way!” the Tidebreaker finally bellowed. “And anything in our way gets stomped!”
Across the open field the Stormcast Eternals raised their bows and crossbows. In the center of the force Yndrasta, the Celestial Spear stood, regarding their enemy. She was Sigmar’s foremost monster hunter and as such had been called to Nassollotyl, now that the battle in and around the city seemed to reach its crescendo. Not wasting time with speeches she simply called “For Sigmar!” and gestured with her spear towards the onrushing Gargants. Arrows and bolts were unleashed. Flocks of Aetherwings and packs of Gryph-hounds moved to meet the Gargants and keep them off the Stormast Eternals so they could unload their ranged weapons with impunity.
It was a good plan. But within moments Yndrasta could tell that it wasn’t working. Quick and nimble the beasts might be, but their opponents hat much experience fighting such prey. Almighty stomps crushed noble Gryph-hounds. Great clubs smashed Aetherwings out of the air. Yndrasta unfolded her own wings and took to the skies herself. “Keep firing!” she ordered her troops and then flew towards the Gargants.
Old Viggo saw the winged Stormcast Eternal come towards him and readied his club. Finally a ‘human in shiny armor’ who wasn’t afraid of a good scrap. He was about to bring his weapon down on Yndrasta when there suddenly was a blinding flash of lightning right before him. Three more ‘shiney boys’ appeared, heavily armored and wielding large hammers. Of the winged one there was no trace. Quite enraged about being cheated out of a proper fight the Tidebreaker slammed his warclub down right onto the newcomers. The weapon had sunk galleons, so Viggo’s surprise was considerable when the Stormcasts stood their ground. But with the help of some of his Mancrushers, who had finally rid themselves of the pesky birds that had been harassing them, they were stomped quickly enough. Old Viggo was about to carry on when the glowy lantern at his ear suddenly grew hot and a moment later a sudden pain in his side made him spin around. Yndrasta had flown around a large boulder to get out of his sight and then flanked him so she could drive her spear deep into the Mega-Gargant’s side. It was only thanks to the magic inherent to the lantern automatically protecting its owner that the weapon hadn’t gone deeper and hit something vital. Viggo lashed out with his free hand, but she flew backwards, out of his range.
Over the next few, tense moments Old Viggo attempted to hit Yndrasta, either with his club or with his hand while the Stormcast darted in, striking small wounds with each attack before retreating again. It almost seemed like the nimble flyer was finally someone the Mega-Gargant could not stomp, smash or otherwise crush. Until Old Viggo reached behind his back. With a lashing motion he struck out with his wallopin’ tentacle. The wiggling appendage easily tripled his reach, and even though he had torn it from the body of a deep kraken long ago, it still sought out victims to ensnare. Unable to adapt fast enough to the sudden change in circumstances Yndrasta got caught by the tentacle and pulled in. A glancing hit of Viggo’s shiprecka warclub was enough to stun her. Then the Gargant’s large fingers encircled her waist. For several moments Old Viggo regarded his foe, considering what to do. Yndrasta struggled, but she could barely move the brute’s fingers. Drawing her sword she stabbed the blade into the hand holding her while at the same time lashing out at the arm with her spear. Old Viggo bellowed out as the pain shot through his arm. Then he squeezed. Even armor forged from the finest sigmarite could not withstand the awesome strength of a true Son of Behemat. Yndrasta’s body arched, then went limp. And a moment later a bolt of lightning signaled her passing back to Azyr.
With an annoyed grunt Old Viggo tossed the scorched, empty armor aside. That spear would have been a nice addition to his collection, but it had disappeared along with its owner. Around him his Gargants were dispatching the rest of the force of Stormcast Eternals and their pets who had thought they could stop them. Some had been hurt, but not badly. At least not so bad that he couldn’t get them moving again.
“Alright!” he shouted to get their attention. “Enough muckin’ about. We got a job to do.” He pointed at the rift with his warclub. “There’s daemons to stomp there. And someone get Drongo back to his feet,” he added after a moment. There was a good bit of grumbling, but Old Viggo’s Stomp was moving again, towards the rift and the hordes of daemons pouring out of it. They could not do anything about the hole in reality. But they could buy those who could some time. They were good at that.
“Quick! Someone bring back that gold-cursed fyreslayer!” Captain Olbryn Whisperport’s frenetic message hissed through the aethercomms, conveying the urgency of the situation without disturbing the veneer of calm in the assembly in the command room of the Hidden Reserve.
His arkanauts turned their ancestor helmets at one another uncertainly before another responded. “Sir, that one gets belligerent if you call him that.”
“I don’t care!” The copper and tin mechanically-assisted voice of their captain straining the internal speakers screeched in their helmets. “Tell him *bzzt* we have more kegs! Tell him we’re willing to barter for his services again!”
With his heavy metal boot, Whisperport stomped down hard on the floor, surprising his officers and crew with the sudden violence, and again with the unusual click sound and pop of several hatches opening in the room. They gawped in surprise.
“This isn’t called the Hidden Reserve for vanity. Get these barrels out there and bring me that orange haired buffoon!”
—————————————
Sons of Bugman AEC Memorandum VT03-28a
duly countersigned by a representative of the Logisticator’s Guild.
Although the fyreslayer was at first resistant, unhappy that we had withheld ale from him in the interim period between the excavation of the blue crystals and now, after an offering of Beastgrave Dew, Ur-Bru, Madralthan Lager, Bloody Morathi, Ulferkarn Vodka (the above all consigned sales with Brewmaster Ketil Gorogson), and an previously unrecorded quantity of Satrap Strong (footnote: See attached for my formal complaint against Captain Whisperport on this matter – Logisticator Gazran Goldbeard), the fyreslayer became amenable to our request that he fight and help clear a path for the wizard Boar-Baiter to the rift at the worm’s head.
Both assets were carried to the site via gunhauler. Upon arrival, the assembled cults of the Ruinous Powers took it upon themselves to attack our skyvessel. The fyreslayer immediately entered the fight, leaping down into the thick of the enemy. Although arrayed alone against scores of the enemy in a dangerously twisting landscape, he swiftly dealt with all ranged and major threats to our passage before the portal’s energies caused him to vanish from our sight. What had once been scores now only stood three, too weak to do chase.
It is this duardin’s opinion after seeing the fyreslayer in action that the vast expense above was justified. (footnote: Arguable – Logisticator Gazran Goldbeard)
footnote:
It has come to my attention that part of the stock donated to pay the fyreslayer originated from coalition member Haldeburh Coldpath, who provided homebrewed ale. See attached for my formal complaint as well against The Fifth Skalfhammer Grundstok Co. unit for absconding with it. Revival of downed duardin is NOT an acceptable excuse for misappropriation of company property!
Brawen the bloody queen is back at the head of large war band to capture the rift and make daemon hood they carve the path to towards the tear in Reality Vorgur Boar frenzy join in the Frey only to be stopped by Brawen,Vorgur asked why she stop him her reply was to pick up the rival chaos lord by throat then tear off his head then turn to his men and said serve or die the all choose to serve in the end. Brawen begin ascends to daemon hood at last cutting down anything in way to the her goal.
The discovery that Sylvene had willingly colluded with the Slaaneshis and other cultists left the remaining True Aelves both embittered and ashamed. Under Raedheil’s supervision aelves, Vurm-tai and even the panther shared a blood oath: vowing to strike back against the daemons, and make what reparation they could for their error in trusting and escorting Lyonaver, before regaining the settlement atop the worm and fighting to the last to defend it.
First, the daemons. It was those of Slaanesh that the True Aelves pursued with most hate, and that in turn seemed drawn to their ever tempting essence. Among several injured, a Shadow Warrior was rent asunder by a Daemonette when the first skirmish ended in the Aelves’ initial, if necessarily temporary, injury.
After the daemonhost mortal abominations known at Twinsouls joined the struggle, the aelven ranger Aratheln received a wound that looked surely fatal, and yet recovered, though there was small rejoicing in those that perceived him. His stare was focussed, inflexible, glazed with the spoor of war, and all who beheld him recognised that if he was not quite lost to Slaanesh, his mind was now given over to the barren ghost of Khaine.
At last the aelves fought their way with bow and blade to the eerie, horrendously fair song of this daemon armament’s leader, and shuddered to see revealed an Enrapturess’s face. For it bore some remnants of the lineaments of the traitress, Sylvene. Raedheil and his kinsman of the Scourge confronted and finished it together, and with it its retinue was put to the sword or banished. But the haunted look in Raedheil’s gaze, as he hurriedly gave the order to fall back to the worm, intimated this small victory was in truth scarce any victory at all.
Alsanir killed last pink horror. The battle was won. But no cheering was heard. Too many have lost their life – fellow Swordmasters, Alsanir’s commander and even Archmage Yrasiel. Everything went wrong – it was supposed to be only a diplomatic mission to the city of Nekhen-Thut with a stopover in ghurish city. But disciples of Lord Caradryas Lightbringer would never have abandon people in danger. And so they fought in a war they never started, dying for people they even didn’t know. Alsanir could only hope that mages of Nassolotyl (and that orruk shaman…) will manage to close the rift. Otherwise all that sacrifice could be in vain…
Result – Order’s victory
“When, Zindimir?” The irritated raspy voice of Inquisitor Sinestor came from down below, where the roaring of daemons and the din of battle could be heard in the distance.
“Soon, sir. It’s all connected… as I said.” A pause, and the Keeper could feel the Inquisitor’s slowly approaching figure, floating there in irritation.
“It does not matter that daemons corrupted this rift: the veins of Ghur still beat right through this spot. This is where it had to happen. It could not have happened elsewhere.” Zindimir waved his arms slowly, to and fro, brandishing his scepter-lantern, following the motions of something that the Inquisitor had not the witchsight to see.
“We can’t hold out here any longer, the daemons are getting closer. Why can’t you just let them eat the Crusaders, and the worm, and everyone else? They are not our problem, and we will be leaving soon.” A pause. “I need you to finish this. Now.” The Inquisitor demanded.
Zindimir said nothing, then his lantern’s flame surged, and for the first time, the wind caught it and it finally behaved like a normal flame again.
“Very well, sir.” Zindimir lowered his arms. “But we will have to finish it from the ground. I believe I have seen what I needed from the rift itself. We only need to study the leylines themselves. We almost have it, sir. We will be able to build our own. Soon.”
“If it takes us off the worm, anywhere is better. Our knights have almost dissipated just keeping the daemons from our position. We’ll have some time to regroup, at least.”
The two gheists lowered themselves from the cliff-like spines that littered the worm, two attendants taking the Keeper’s arms, his form flickering and fading slightly.
“Definitely needing to regroup.” the Inquisitor said, studying his mage. “We should extract demands from these Ghurians: we just gave them a big help in stopping these daemons from tearing apart whatever is left of their worm.”
“And they are doing good work at closing this rift.” Zindimir commended. “They might even succeed. But… that’s not really our problem. Drekazra is busy right now, though I assume he’d rather not have this infestation at his doorstep when he finishes having… fun. Sir.”
The Inquisitor nodded silently, and motioned to their attendants.
Silently, the ghostly shapes of the Inquisition’s templars slinked away, towards the ground, far down below.
———
The Inquisition of Umberspire helps contain the daemons around the rift.
pictures: https://twitter.com/WH_Narratives/status/1443060315906875392?s=20
The Inqusition of Umberspire: https://thegreatweave.com/the-inquisition-of-umberspire/